I saw her. There was a couple in the corner by the bar. I pointed at her. “Yellow dress.”
She lifted her drink to me in a salute. “I’m single, kid. You’re not going to hurt me.”
“Good to know.” I moved to the next one. A woman in another black dress was inching into the house, away from the patio. “You. Black dress.”
She hurried into the house.
It wouldn’t matter. I glanced to where she had been standing. A group was there, waiting for what I was going to say next. I knew which one was the husband right away. He was glaring at James, his jaw clenched, with the same look of violence in his eyes that I was feeling. He turned to me, waiting. I told him, “In his office. He was supposed to give me a ride to an away game and I heard them. When she left, her dress wasn’t zipped up all the way.”
The husband was seething. He didn’t go after his wife. He went for my dad. His fist was already formed. I watched it happen. My dad was focused on me. He was trying to figure out how to shut me up. He wasn’t looking at who was coming at him and then a woman screamed. The husband didn’t say anything. He was a foot from my dad when he threw the first punch.
It connected with his jaw, square in the middle, and my dad went down.
It was chaos after that.
The husband hit him again, but Nate’s dad went from holding me back to holding the husband back. He yelled in his ear, “Patrick, stop this.”
The husband shook his head. “It wasn’t your wife, Dom. It was mine and that bastard has been with her more than the time the kid saw. I know it. I’ve known it for a while.” He lunged for my dad again, but two other men joined in and held him back.
I wasn’t being held back anymore. I met my dad’s gaze. He was still on the ground, holding the side of his face. Nate’s mom was kneeling at his side, yelling for them to take the husband out. In that moment, all the yelling and chaos melted away.
It was just him and me.
He asked, “Are you done?”
No. “Not by a long shot.”
My dad wasn’t sorry. I could see that. He was going to continue to do what he wanted. There was an arrogance to him. Standing there, seeing him on the ground and bleeding, didn’t make me feel better. Instead of the need to hurt someone, I was empty. The gnawing ache in my stomach was still there, but it was worse. I closed my eyes and hung my head. The gnawing feeling would never go away.
“Mason.”
Nate’s mom was in front of me. She pointed to the house. “Leave my house. Now.”
I nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
As I left, I realized that the only people paying attention to me were the ones I hadn’t called out. As I went past them, each one turned away or stood behind a person, hiding from me. The rest were buzzing about what had happened, and I could hear shouts from outside still. I never minded when people were fearful of me, but this time it left me empty. I had joined them. I had sunk to their level and I felt dirty because of it. When I got to the door, Nate was there. His prick friends were too. I didn’t give a shit what they were thinking, but Nate folded his arms over his chest. He gestured towards the patio area. “My mom kicked you out?”
“Yeah. You’re probably going to be banned from being my friend.”
“They’ve already tried.” He shrugged. “I won’t listen. I never do.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I put my dad shit above our friendship just now. I’m sorry, Nate.” And I was. It had been the wrong thing to do. He’d be hurt by it. I wouldn’t. That was the sad thing. My dad would come home and pretend I wasn’t there. It’s how he dealt with life. He would continue to do his own thing and pretend there were no consequences.
“Mason.”
I had started out the door, but turned back to Nate again. “Yeah?”
“Spend time with Logan tonight. Just the two of you do something together.”
“Why?”
“Because being around your brother always seems to help you.”
Guilt and shame shot through me, and the hole in me grew bigger. “You’re a good friend.”
“So are you.” He flashed me a half-grin. “Maybe not today, but you are. I’ll sneak over tomorrow.”
“Sounds good.”
“See you.”
He shut the door behind me and I walked away. I didn’t feel better at all.
7
AN AGENDA
A girl in a tight shirt and jeans came over with a beer. I skimmed an eye over her—she looked fine—tight body, decent rack for our age. Her bra was showing; girls did that shit on purpose. They wanted us to see it. When Nate saw my approval, he flashed me a grin and took off. We were at one of Fischer’s parties, but it was still early in the evening. Logan insisted on coming, but he was in the corner with his girlfriend draped all over him.